


Falling for You

by Alatariel_Galadriel



Category: Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fainting, Gen, Jack is the mom friend, M/M, Medical Conditions, New York University, Race can't take care of himself, Race has a crush, Spot is intimidating, spot secretly has feelings, sprace
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-05
Updated: 2018-07-25
Packaged: 2019-05-18 15:15:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,589
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14855204
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Alatariel_Galadriel/pseuds/Alatariel_Galadriel
Summary: College AU, specifically NYU.  Race gets paired with the intimidating (and unfairly attractive) Spot for a group project during the week of midterms. , Race is really bad at taking care of himself, the results of which nearly give Spot a heart attack. Jack is there as the Mom Friend ™. Sprace! Rated teen for Race's and Spot's potty mouths.





	1. Falling for You

Race’s luck was the worst. The absolute worst. First of all, his teacher was an asshole. Who the hell assigns a huge group project due the week of _midterms_? Second of all, his assigned group was horrible. Of the three other people in his group, two of them, Oscar and Morris, literally never came to class. Race had seen them one time, at the beginning of the year. He thought they had dropped out, but nope, apparently they were still here. There’s no way he could trust them to actually do the work. 

The other person in his group was Spot. Okay, Spot wasn’t bad at all, he seemed like he worked hard, but he just might murder Race. Race didn’t think Spot specifically hated him; he just seemed to dislike everyone in general? He was really intimidating. The only exception to Spot’s animosity was Jack. Apparently Jack and Spot were friends? Acquaintances? Race had no clue how they knew each other, but Spot seemed to hate Jack less than everyone else. 

And Spot was really fucking attractive. 

Race definitely knew that. 

Shit. 

So, the one person in the group that Race might be able to rely on was unfairly attractive and would probably kill him. Great. 

It took a while for Race to actually finish his part of the project. The project wasn’t that bad, except he also had about 50 million other things to do, and now he and Spot had to do the slackers’ parts. Which were due in 48 hours. 21 if they wanted extra credit. Now he had to get in contact with Spot and figure their shit out. 

\-----------O------------

Spot beat him to it.

_3:32 AM_

__

_Unknown number: this is spot. The other people in our group are assholes. Don’t be an asshole._

__

_Race: Hi to you, too? I’m an asshole but I finished my part of the project_

__

_Spot: good. ill do Oscar’s section_

__

_Race: cool cool ill take morris then_

__

_Race: we should meet up some time to make sure everything fits together_

__

_Spot: k_

__

_Race: k? just k? whos the asshole now_

__

_Spot: fuck off_

__

_Race: nah_

__

_Race: someone’s grouchy_

__

_Spot: fuck off_

__

_Race: ur so eloquent_

__

_Race: so met sometime 2day at less ungidly hr_

__

_Spot: do you want to be more specific_

__

_Race: nah_

__

_Spot: nah?_

__

_Race: im fueled by red bull, ramen, and rage dont judge me_

__

_Spot: same_

__

_Spot: how about the EHB library at 6. have your parts finished by then, we’ll just check each other’s and submit it_

__

_Spot: we’re doing the early submission for extra credit_

__

_Race: aw spot you make me all tingly when you take control like that_

__

_Spot: really._

__

_Race: sorry sorry plz dont murder me_

__

_Spot: um_

__

_Spot: why would i murder you_

__

_Race: uh idk ur intimidating and look angry a lot? ur buff enough to kill me with ur pinky fingr, 2_

__

_Spot: thanks. i try. i won’t murder you, btw_

__

_Spot: you’re not a completely horrible person_

__

_Race: practically a declaration of love_

__

_Spot: shut up_

__

_Race: sounds good now go away i got work and no sleep to do_

__

_Spot: no sleep?_

__

_Race: sleep is for the weak and the dead. i havnt seen it since tues_

__

_Spot: fair enough_

__

_Race: wait howd u get my number_

__

_Spot: I thought you had had work to do_

__

_Race: ya, but do I want to do it? no_

__

_Spot: jack gave it to me._

__

_Race: oh okay_

__

Race grinned. Spot actually seemed almost…chill? This wasn’t helping his crush at all. 

__

He turned back to the mess of text books, papers, and random snacks surrounding his laptop in front of him. His grin faded. He had a lot of work to do. 

__

\-------------O-------------

__

__

15 hours, three cups of coffee, and 2 ½ cans of red bull later, Race slammed the submit button. He shoved his laptop away and slumped facedown on the library table. 

__

“Finally,” he mumbled, “This project can go to hell.” 

__

“It’s going to Mr. Burrows, same difference,” Spot deadpanned from across the table. Race chuckled a bit and, after a moment felt Spot poke the top of his head. 

__

“Hey. You alive? Jack’ll think I murdered you if you die now,” 

__

“Mph. I’m only dead on the inside,” Race flung his arm out without looking up. “Toss me that red bull or I’ll be dead on the outside too.” 

__

He heard Spot sigh, then the Red Bull was slapped into his palm. 

__

“Those’ll kill you, you know,” Spot said, gathering his notes and laptop into his bag. 

__

“At least I’ll go out in a blaze of glory!” Race replied, chugging the remainder of the drink and tossing it into the nearby waste bin. Spot snorted. 

__

Race’s hands were shaking, which was fun. Overdosing on caffeine was the best. 

__

He sat up straighter as the Red Bull finally kicked in. 

__

“Hey, Spot,” he said, grabbing his own stuff and shoving it haphazardly into his bag. 

__

Spot grunted, scrolling through something on his phone. 

__

“Do you ever, like, actually smile? Or is your face just stuck like that?” Race teased. 

__

Spot flipped him off without looking up. Race grinned back. 

__

His phone buzzed, and he pulled it out of his pocket, leaning back in his seat.

__

_Cowboi: Hey hows the project going_

__

_Race: we finished! Im screwed tho Jack_

__

_Cowboi: y?_

__

_Race: spot was already way too fucking attractive and now i actually know him and hes, like, a decent person?? Halp ive fallen and i can’t get up_

__

_Cowboi: haha sucks to suck, doesn’t it?_

__

_Cowboi: ill get the deets and the drama l8tr, k? im in a lecture rn_

__

_Cowboi: also go the fuck to sleep, u know how u get when u dont. Have u taken ur meds, ur last dose was supposed to be an hour ago_

__

_Race: uuuuhh no actually I forgot but im heading back soon. u think i can get Spot to have lunch w/me l8ter, tho?_

__

_Cowboi: idk maybe, now go back to the dorm and actually take care of urself_

__

_Race: okay thanks mom_

__

__

Race glanced up to where Spot was sitting. Should he ask now? 

__

Nah. Later, when they both aren’t running on fumes. 

__

“Jack says hi,” he said instead. 

__

“Tell him to fuck off and that he owes me twenty bucks,” Spot replied. 

__

“You’re so kind, Spot, how could anyone not fall for your sparkling personality?” Race teased. 

__

“Yeah, yeah, smart-ass,” Spot grumbled, standing up. 

__

Race followed him out of the library. 

__

“Hey, you taking the short cut through Washington Park?” He asked, hoping the answer was yes. That was his route back to his dorm. 

__

“Yup,” Spot said. Race smiled and trotted after him. 

__

“So hey, what kinda nickname is Spot? What’s it short for?” He said once they reached the park trail. It was pretty much empty, seeing as it was in the middle of dinner hours. Race felt sort of fuzzy and a little dizzy, but a couple of all-nighters will do that to you. 

__

“It’s short for ‘none of your business’,” Spot was clearly trying to sound pissed , but there was a trace amusement in his voice. 

__

“Oooh, mysterious! How’s a fellow supposed to resist such a mysterious, dark, handsome, tall-oh wait…” Race dramatically posed. His heart was beating a little faster. Damn Spot and his attractiveness. 

__

Spot growled. Actually growled. 

__

“Woah, okaaay there mister! Calm down!” Race laughed. “I didn’t mean anything by it!” 

__

Spot grunted. 

__

“So what’s Race stand for, then?” Spot asked after a few beats of silence. 

__

“Racetrack. I’m fast, and you know Jack can’t resist giving nicknames,” Race responded. 

__

“That is, unfortunately, very true,” Spot said lightly. 

__

“Well, we all know that Jack is short for Jackass, anyways,” Race quipped. 

__

Spot’s lips turned up into a smirk at that, and Race’s stomach swooped. Jesus _Christ_ this dude was hot. 

__

“Well, fuck, Conlon, was that a _smile_ I just saw?” Race grinned, his heart thumping louder. “Should I mark the date? I think I’ve spotted a cryptid!” 

__

Spot narrowed his eyes and crossed his arms, but the smirk didn’t quite disappear. 

__

“You’re a real asshole, you know that, Race?” He growled. Clearly, he was supposed to be intimidating. Race didn’t buy it for a second, and grinned wider. 

__

“Maybe so, but I’m an asshole who does my share of group projects!” He chirped, then stumbled a bit. He didn’t feel so great. 

__

Spot made an honest-to-god hissing noise in the back of his throat. 

__

“Hell is too good for those two fuckers, there is no way I am letting them get away with the grades that they didn’t even earn-“ He continued, but Race couldn’t really focus anymore. Something was really _really_ wrong. 

__

His stomach was still filled with butterflies, swooping like he was going down a never-ending roller coaster and the world felt askew and his heart was pounding even louder, which was weird, he wasn’t even nervous or- _shit_. 

__

Shit shit shit and a fuck thrown in there as well because he couldn’t deal with this right now, not in public. He was gonna go down and he needed to tell Spot not to freak out but the words just _wouldn’t come out_ and the world was fuzzing in and out focus and his heart was going so fast that it hurt and he couldn’t quite breathe right and Spot was looking kind of concerned but Race couldn’t even hear him over the pounding in his ears and his heart kept going _faster_ and the world tilted and 

__

Everything 

__

Just 

__

Stopped 

__

__

\------------O------------

__

__

__

He blinked his eyes open and saw-the sky? He was on his back. He shut his eyes again. He was tired. He couldn’t really feel anything, just an odd sort of emptiness-but that wasn’t right. 

__

Something had happened. He had been talking and-and-he’d had an episode. Shit. A sort of popping noise, and all the sound and feelings rushed back in. 

__

Someone was talking, panicked and _really loud_ , and a hand was on his wrist. The hand moved from his wrist to his chest. He blinked his eyes open and-oh. That was Spot. 

__

Spot’s lips moved and a split second after, Race actually registered his voice. 

__

“Hey, hey, hey, Race, can you hear me?” Spot’s brows were furrowed and he looked upset. And kind of angry. What was wrong, why did he look so con-

__

“Race?” Louder this time, more concerned. 

__

Oh yeah, answering was probably a good idea. 

__

Race forced himself to nod, wincing as the world spun faster with the movement. 

__

Spot’s shoulders lost some of their tension, and he exhaled slowly, removing his hand from where it had been resting on Race’s chest. 

__

“Okay. Okay, that’s good. That’s good. Do you know what happened?” 

__

Race nodded. He’d had another episode. 

__

Spot ran his hand through his hair. “Your pulse and breathing seems okay. Do you know where you are?” 

__

Race thought about it for a second. Nodded. 

__

“A verbal response would be real fucking good right now, Higgins”. 

__

Everything was still a fuzzy and _wrong_ , but Race forced himself to open his mouth. 

__

“Fuck,” he mumbled. 

__

“Real cute, kid. Now answer the question.” 

__

“Um…W-Washingt’n Park.” That would have to do. 

__

Spot nodded, shifting back to his heels and digging through his bag. 

__

“Okay, that’s good. We’re gonna wait right here while I call for medical.” Spot said, shifting back and pulling out his phone. 

__

Race’s stomach dropped and he lurched upright, nearly cracking his head off of Spot’s, who dropped his phone onto the path. 

__

“No! Wait, no, don’t call, I don’t need- please don’t-“ He couldn’t get the fucking words out of his mouth. God fucking dammit. 

__

“Woah woah woah!” Spot grabbed his shoulders and forced him to stay still. “Calm down, Race, you need to stop! Look, you just… _collapsed_ out of nowhere, okay? You’re shaking like a leaf, can’t piece together a sentence and you are clearly NOT fine, so you’re going to have to give me a hell of a good explanation why I shouldn’t call for help.” 

__

Race curled in on himself slightly, breaking Spot’s hold on his shoulders. Spot backed up a little, and Race pressed his (still shaking, dammit) palms against his eyelids and tried to force himself to focus. 

__

“I-um, this-this happens sometimes…it’s, um, it’s a-a thing, and…it-it, um, it’s normal” He forced out. This was bad. He couldn’t explain when he was in this state, and being so fucking helpless in front of Spot was humiliating, but everything still felt so _off_ and _wrong_ and- He needed to go, he needed to get out. 

__

He stood up abruptly, ignoring how Spot grabbed for his arm and missed, also ignoring how much his legs were shaking and the world was spinning, and started to walk away. He didn’t finish his second step before he staggered and his legs collapsed from under him. 

__

Spot somehow managed to grab his forearms and slow him down before he hit the ground, leaving them awkwardly kneeling across from each other. Race tried to pull his arms out of Spot’s grasp, but Spot tightened his grip until it almost hurt. 

__

“What the hell kind of stunt are you trying to pull, Race?!” Spot yelled, and Race flinched back. Spot stopped then, and scanned Race’s eyes. Something in his gaze softened, and he let Race go. Race sagged back, curling his legs in front of him and staring at the ground. 

__

“Look, Race, I get it. Just, stay there, okay? I’m not going to call an ambulance right now, but do you have someone I can call? I don’t know what’s wrong and I don’t know what you need.” Spot said, softer this time. 

__

Race nodded. “Jack”. 

__

He dug his phone out of his pocket, but his hands were shaking so badly that he dropped when he tried to type. 

__

Spot scooped it up. 

__

“Look, I’ll call him and explain, okay?” He said. After a couple seconds he snorted. “I’m assuming Jack is ‘Cowboi’?” 

__

Race’s lips twitched a little at that, and he nodded. Spot quickly walked a couple feet away while the phone was dialing. Race shifted a bit, shutting his eyes and hanging his head between his knees in an attempt to stop the dizziness, and listened to Spot’s half of the conversation. 

__

“This is Spot, Race just fucking collapsed and I don’t know…Washington Park, we took the shortcut from the library…Yeah, he’s talking, but he’s not very coherent. Do I need to call for--Okay… Okay, what can I do? …Okay… No, I don’t think he hit his head on anything… Nope… Yeah…Okay, see you soon.” 

__

After a few seconds, he heard Spot settle down beside him. 

__

“Jack’s on his way. He’ll be here in about five minutes; he just got out of an art lecture.” 

__

Race hummed to acknowledge that he heard, but didn’t actually respond. An awkward silence settled. After a minute or two, Spot cleared his throat and asked

__

“So you do that a lot? Collapse, I mean. Jack made it sound like it happens a lot.” 

__

Race shrugged, then nodded. After a beat, he said

__

“Yeah, I have, um medicine, that… that helps, but it still happens sometimes. ‘S not serious, my body just, um, freaks out and shuts down sometimes. ” He lifted his head up a bit and glanced sideways at Spot. 

__

“That sucks ass.” Spot said. Race snorted. 

__

“Yup,” He grumbled. “Tends to fr-um-freak people out, and it’s embarrassing as hell.” 

__

Spot grunted a bit and nodded. Race rested his head on his knees, and tried to keep his eyes open, but he was exhausted. A minute of silence later and Jack jogged into sight, carrying a bottle of Gatorade. 

__

“Race! How’s it going, buddy?” Jack skidded to a stop and sat down in front of Race. He twisted off the Gatorade cap and handed the bottle to him. 

__

“Just peachy, Jack.” Race mumbled, then raised the bottle to his lips. Jack smirked and turned to Spot. 

__

“Hey, Brooklyn, thanks for lookin’ out for him, and not calling an ambulance or nothing. Those’re a hassle,” Jack nodded at Spot, who nodded back. Race finished the drink while Jack and Spot bantered back and forth. 

__

Race laid back and fought to keep his eyes open. Episodes like this always wore him out, but throwing in a massive sleep debt and the beginnings of a caffeine crash made everything worse. 

__

The world was spinning a little less, and he could think a little more clearly, which was nice. He really just wanted to sleep. 

__

Jack glanced over at Race, and seeing that he was already half asleep, grabbed Race’s wrists and pulled him back into a seated position. 

__

“Come on Race, it’s time to go,” He said, but Race just gave a drawn-out groan in response. “Oh, quit your whining, you big baby. This wouldn’t even be this bad if you had actually slept and took care of yourself like I’ve been telling ya to.” 

__

He crouched down with his back to Race. 

__

“C’mon Race, hop on up. Let’s get you back to the dorm.” 

__

Race groaned. “I can walk by myself, Jack. ‘M not doing a piggyback,” He protested. Jack didn’t even look back. 

__

“Nope!” Jack popped the ‘p’ loudly. “It’s either this or bridal style, Racetrack, you got ten seconds to choose before I choose for ya. Spoiler alert: you won’t like what I choose.” 

__

“Mph. Screw you, Kelly.” 

__

Race reluctantly clambered onto Jack’s back. Jack stood up and started walking, with Spot following beside him. Race let his head fall onto Jack’s shoulder and let his eyes close. 

__

By the time they reached the dorm, Race was mostly asleep. Everything was soft and hazy, and he couldn’t have opened his eyes if he tried. He dimly heard Jack talking, sounding very far away, but he dozed off. 

__

__

\------------O------------

__

__

“You know, Spot, for such a hard-ass guy, you sounded awfully concerned about Race there,” Jack said, fumbling with the keys to his dorm while trying not to drop or wake up Race. 

__

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Spot quietly snapped as Jack finally managed to open the door. 

__

“Nothin’.” Jack sounded amused. “It’s just, if I didn’t know ya better, Conlon, I’d bet my ass you cared.” 

__

“You bet your ass I’ll beat your ass if you say anything else, Kelly.” Spot growled. He turned and walked back to the elevator, flipping Jack off over his shoulder. 

__

Jack just laughed. 

__

__

\------------O------------

__

__

14 hours later, Race woke up from sleeping like the dead to see a new text on his phone. 

__

_Spot: Hey asshole, you owe me lunch now. Meet you in the deli at twelve_

__

__

Race grinned. 

__


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Spot withholds caffeine from Race, scares the hell out of him, and gets conned into taking him on an almost-date.

Race reached for Spot’s coffee, keeping direct eye contact with Spot and rambling about the horrifying inconvenience of _actually having to do work_ in college. Distraction is key during theft, so if he maintained eye contact and kept chatting he might actually succeed- a stinging pain shot through his hand as Spot smacked it down, barely an inch away from the coffee. 

“I said no, Race,” Spot glared, “Like, five or six times.” 

Race met his glare with as pathetic of a pout as he could manage. 

Sure, Race had had his own cup along with his sandwich, but he’d already finished it, and he _needed_ more caffeine. 

Well… actually he didn’t, testified by the coffee mugs littering his dorm, but this was a great way to annoy Spot (with an added bonus of coffee). 

Race leaned forward, and Spot slid the coffee farther away in response. “Well, ya see, Spot, since I paid for that coffee, it _technically_ belongs to me, and therefore I have the right-“ 

_“Technically,_ you agreed to pay for this meal as compensation for giving me a fucking heart attack,” Spot interrupted, “So, it’s still _my_ coffee, and _you_ should stop whining and learn how capitalism works.” 

Race slumped down onto the table, nudging aside his half-eaten sandwich with his elbow. 

“Ugh, capitalism. I don’t need it. What I need is that sweet sweet drug you’re denying me!” Race made little grabby motions with his hands. “Come on Spot, I’m dying over here!” 

Spot snorted. “Quit whining, you little shit. You’s fine; from what I’ve heard, you’ve already had at least three cups of coffee today.” 

“Little shit? I’m offended Spot, I thought we agreed I’m a lovable asshole!” Race placed a hand on his chest and fluttered his eyes dramatically. 

Spot scoffed. “I didn’t agree to nothing. The only thing I’ll agree with right now is that you have a serious addiction.” With that, he finished the rest of his coffee, crushing Race’s hopes and dreams along with the Styrofoam cup. 

Race pouted for a few seconds, then suddenly sat up and cocked his head. “Wait a mo’; you said you heard I already had coffee. Who’s the rat?” 

Spot rolled his eyes. “Who do you think, Racer?” 

“Ugh, Jack. He ruins all my fun, what a jerk. ” Race returned to sulking. 

Spot grunted, collecting his trash from the table and stacking it. 

“He’s separated me from my one true love! I can’t be expected to go on living when my caffeine is being _cruelly withheld-_ ” 

“Shut up and eat your sandwich, you idiot, or I’ll leave without you.” Spot threatened. 

Race shut up and shoved the rest of his sandwich in his mouth. Spot grabbed Race’s trash and walked off to throw it away, and if Race’s gaze lingered just a _little_ too long, well, he could blame it on his tragic lack of caffeine. Sure. 

Spot returned quickly, grabbing his bag from his seat. 

“Ready to head out?” He asked. 

Race nodded, his cheeks still bulging with sandwich. 

“Wow, I didn’t know it was even possible for you to be quiet. Suddenly it’s much more pleasant here.” Spot deadpanned. 

Race flipped him off, grabbing his bag with his other hand and following Spot to the door. 

“It’s _been_ pleasant where I’m at, my voice is a delight.” He blinked innocently. “Maybe it sounds different down at your height?” 

Spot’s face darkened, and Race stepped back. Abort mission, abort mission! Anyone who’s spent any time at all near Spot knows height is a forbidden topic. He and Spot insulted each other like it was breathing, but maybe this time he had gone too far? Shit. 

To Race’s shock, Spot’s face slid into a smile. It was not a pleasant smile, though. There were too many teeth, and his eyes were icy cold, like a shark’s. This was it, Race was dead. He could already read his tombstone: 

_Here lies Racetrack Higgins, the absolutely moronic idiot who made a short joke to the extremely buff dude who could definitely crush him in three seconds flat. He died bravely, sacrificing his life for a shitty, pointless joke._

Eh, kinda wordy for a tombstone, but no one ever claimed that Race was succinct. 

“Oh, that’s _real_ mature,” Spot said, deadly sweet. “Ain’t anyone ever told you jokes like that is rude, _Anthony?_ ” 

Race choked. 

Spot’s chuckled, his scary grin disappearing, reverting into a much more normal smile. Well, as close as Spot ever got to a normal smile. More like a smirk. 

Race’s relief that he wasn’t actually going to be murdered by his crush quickly turned to annoyance as Spot finished laughing. 

“Your face was hilarious. Remind me to do that more often,” Spot said matter-of-factly. 

“Fuck off Spot, we both knows ya _try_ to be scary. You probably practiced that smile in front of a mirror, didn’t ya, like ‘Hm, how can I terrify humanity at large today?’ Oh I know, looking like a freaking psychopathic shark!” 

__

Spot snorted, but he also didn’t deny it. 

__

“And no fucking way is you doing that again. I thought I was dead. Dead! I saw the future and it was me, murdered by Spot-fuckin’- Conlon for making a shitty short joke,” Race tried to stay annoyed and keep a straight face but failed miserably, starting to laugh. 

__

Spot clicked his tongue. “Actually, I was referring to using your actual name, but I suppose I can do that smile more, since it _delights_ you so,” 

__

Race tried to smack him across the head, but Spot sprinted ahead down the street. Race quickly caught up and kept pace until Spot slowed down, near the entrance to Washington Park. 

__

“Hold up, when did you learn my name?” Race asked, but Spot leaned against a tree and waved his hand, catching his breath. 

__

“Holy hell, you live up to your nickname. It’s your fucking giraffe legs, yeah? Motherfucker.” 

__

Race laughed. “Come on, Conlon, all those pretty muscles and you can’t even run a block? Anyways, you love my legs and you know it.” He did a dramatic high kick, just to be cheeky. 

__

Spot’s face flushed for a split second. If Spot hadn’t just been sprinting, Race would’ve said he was…blushing? But the moment was over in an instant, so fast that Race wasn’t even sure it had even happened. 

__

“Seriously though, stop changing the subject. How do you know my name?” 

__

Spot gave him an inscrutable look. “Jack mentioned it. He also mentioned you hated it, so I figured it would be useful” 

__

Race growled half-heartedly. 

__

“Don’t you worry your pretty head, Racer; I won’t spread it around… Too much.” Spot smirked infuriatingly. 

__

“Hey, hey! Don’t you even think about, Conlon! I’ll be forced to protect my honor by dueling you… to the death!” Race raised his fists and bounced on the balls of his feet. “Come on, let’s go, square up!” 

__

Spot snorted. “I’m not fighting you, Racetrack. I’d probably squash ya without even trying.” 

__

Race exaggeratedly exhaled. 

__

“Oh thank god. As I’ve already said, I don’t want to die today. I’ve got too much to live for,” Race flopped on the ground. 

__

Spot sat down and smirked at Race’s antics. 

__

“Okay then, Spot, what’s your real name? It’s fair trade, or something like that!” 

__

“Spot.” Spot deadpanned. 

__

“Hilarious.” Race said. He waited a beat. “Seriously? You’re not gonna tell me? Ooh, I forgot, you’re mister mysterious over here! Can’t have anyone crack that shell of yours, can ya?” He raised his palms up in joking surrender. It’s fine, it’s cool, I’ll figure it out eventually. But in the meantime…” He elbowed Spot in the ribs. “You owe me.” 

__

“No.” 

__

“What?! How could ya just shoot me down like that! I thought we’s had somethin’ going here, man!” He nudged Spot again, harder this time, and changed his voice to something much more high pitched and nasally. 

__

“C’mon Spotty! You know you owe me! Spooooot!” He deftly rolled out of the way as Spot tried to smack him from where he was sprawled out. 

__

“Oops! Too slow! You’re just gonna have to give in, ‘cause I, I can do this for _hours_.” He poked Spot hard, right between the ribs, but Spot grabbed his wrist before he could dodge again. 

__

Spot leveled his most formidable glare, but Race just met it with a wide grin. 

__

“Fine,” Spot said, releasing Race’s wrist, “What do you want?” 

__

“Yes!” Race cheered. “You’re easy to break, Spotty!” 

__

“Maybe you’s just extra annoying. Now answer the question.” 

__

Race shrugged. “Dunno. Guess I’ll keep you in suspense.” 

__

The look Spot sent him was murderous. 

__

“Don’t you dare.” 

__

Race sat up, cross-legged, and raised his eyebrows. “Does being in debt bother you that much, Spotty?” 

__

After a beat of silence, Race shrugged. 

__

“Okaay then, I guess we can just do the penny game and watch what happens.” 

__

“The penny game?” Spot asked, not sounding overly enthused. 

__

“Yeah! You pick a random number, and then take a walk. You flip a penny every time you hit a crossroads, heads you turn left, tails you turn right, and wherever you run out of numbers is where you spend a couple of hours. It’ll be fun! We could end up pretty much anywhere, and there’s no backtracking.” 

__

“We’ll end up in a landfill.” Spot stated, but amusement colored his voice. 

__

“Then we’ll go dumpster diving or something!” Race exclaimed, “Either way, it’ll be a fun story to tell. Aaaand, the best part is, you’ll be paying for everything!” 

__

“ _Hell_ no. ” Spot shot back. “I’ll pay up to twenty five dollars. Then we’ll split it. I’m just as broke as you, remember? 

__

Race stuck out his lower lip in a pout. “There goes my plan to buy a ton of expensive stuff, like, I don’t know, ersters, and bankrupt you.” 

__

“…Buy a ton of what?” Spot asked, confused. 

__

“You know, ersters.” Race, unhelpfully, replied. 

__

Spot shook his head. 

__

“The clams, the fancy clams with the pearls inside!” Race waved his hands wildly. 

__

Spot sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “It’s an oyster, you fucking idiot. Did you grow up on the streets or something?” 

__

Race wrinkled his nose. “Seems fake, but okay. And don’t insult my upbringing! I pronounce everything perfectly, thank ya very much.” 

__

They lightheartedly bickered back and forth for a couple of minutes, until Race’s phone buzzed. Race picked it up and checked the notification, eyes widening when he saw the time. 

__

“Oh _shit_ , I’m late for class!” He scrambled up, tossing a “See ya later, Spot!” over his shoulder. 

__

“Bye, Racer.” Spot got up and dusted off his pants. 

__

Race gave a goofy salute before sprinting off, leaving Spot to walk back to his dorm with something that looked suspiciously like a smile on his face. 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> BTW, Jack definitely didn’t tell Spot Race’s name, Spot is hardcore social media stalking his crush. Also, the penny game comes from some text post I saw on tumblr ages ago, so that’s not mine. Anyways, sorry for the lack of updating, but I both creativity and motivation on a consistent basis. Until I have loads of work to do and a short deadline. Procrastination: 10/10. So, I rewrote this like 8 times, and still don’t like it, but I do have a (sort of) plan on where I’ll head next? Kind of? I’ll probably update again soonish since I really don’t want to do my summer work. Leave a comment and tell me what you thought!


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot and Race find where they truly belong on their date-that-isn’t-a –date, Spot actually laughs, Race screams, and the romantic tension is real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey yeah remember what I said last time about having a plan of where this fic was heading? Yeah that’s a lie I don’t know what this is anymore. I have never related so much to Katherine in the first verse of Watch What Happens.

Spot had been right. The penny game was ridiculous, and they had, in fact, ended up in a landfill. This was probably the most surreal night Spot had ever had, going on a ~~date~~ walk with Race in a garbage dump. 

“Are we really going through with this?” Spot asked, kicking some trash out of his way and trying to ignore the smell. 

“Whatcha talkin’ about, Spot?” Race grinned as he bounced alongside him. “This right here is prime real estate! Plenty of space, an open floor plan, and _such_ a delightful aroma!” He mimicked a salesman’s voice. “See look, over here you have comfortable furniture,” He gestured at a dilapidated, moldy couch. “And even prime entertainment!” He waved a hand at a smashed TV. “What more could you want?” 

Spot snorted. “Look, just because you’s trash and belong here, doesn’t mean we all do.” 

“Oooh, ouch!” Race pressed a hand against his chest, offended. “Look, Spotty, I _would_ agree with ya there, but then we’d _both_ be wrong. And we can’t have- Look, a mouse!” Race leapt forward towards several furry creatures that had scurried from around a pile of garbage. 

Spot grabbed the back of Race’s shirt and pulled him back before he could go more than two steps. 

“Those, moron, are rats. I don’t wanna have to take ya to the ER for rabies, so why don’t you act your age and leave them alone?” Spot honestly didn’t know how Race had survived long enough to make it to college. 

Race twisted free. “Come on, Spot, I wasn’t trying to catch one or nothin’, rats are vicious! I just wanted a closer look!” 

Spot gave him an incredulous look. “You wanted a closer look. At some filthy rats that’ll try to bite you. Is you insane?” 

“Scared of some rats, Conlon?” Race taunted. “I don’t like ‘em much, but we won’t get too close, I just wanna give ‘em names.” 

“Oh, ‘cause _that_ makes so much more sense ,” Spot scoffed. 

Race ignored him, moving forward again, although this time a little more cautiously. Spot pinched the bridge of his nose and shook his head in exasperation, but followed. 

“See, look, that skittery one can be Ratatat, and that tiny one over there, let’s call him Pipsqueak…and ooh! See that one over there? The one tryin’ to pick a fight? Yeah, I’m definitely naming that one Spot.” 

Spot shoved Race with his shoulder, sending him stumbling sideways. Race lunged back at him, laughing, and Spot easily dodged, grabbing Race into a headlock. 

“Do you yield?” He asked, as Race struggled. 

“Never!” Race yelled, although he was well and truly trapped. He batted at Spot’s arm. 

“You sure?” Spot asked again as Race tried, and failed, to twist out of the hold. “You can’t beat me.” 

Race didn’t stop struggling. “You see, Spotty, some people say ‘if you can’t beat ‘em, join ‘em’,” He tried to elbow Spot’s ribs, but didn’t have enough room to actually get momentum, “But I say, if you can’t beat ‘em, beat ‘em, because they’ll be expectin’ ya to join ‘em and then you have the element of surprise!” Race said breathlessly, halfheartedly kicking at Spot’s knee. 

“And how’s that working out for ya, Racer?” Spot couldn’t keep a straight face. 

Race heaved an overdramatic sigh and went limp. Spot released him, and he immediately popped back up. 

“Alright, round two! I’ll totally kick your ass!” Race exclaimed, bounced on the balls of his feet. 

Spot just looked at him. “What is it with you and trying to fight me?” 

“Hey, I can’t help it if you have a punchable face!” Race jeered, holding his fists up. 

“And you know I can squash you,” Spot retorted, “If I recall, our first conversation involved you begging me not to kill you.” 

“That was over text! You can’t take anything I text seriously, and you was a scary dude, Spot!” 

“Was? Are you claiming I’m not scary anymore?” Spot crossed his arms, widening his stance. 

Race smirked. “Nah, I know you’s secretly a softie.” 

Spot raised his eyebrows, “I could crush you. Like a bug.” 

“Aw c’mon Spotty, I know you like me enough not to murder, or even maim me,” Race batted his eyes. 

“Mild, moderate and severe injuries are still on the table. Don’t test me.” Spot cracked his knuckles, but he could feel his lips twitching into a smile. “I’m still gonna get you back for that rat comment.” 

“Suuure, Spot.” Race chirped, “Hey, I bet I can beat you to that busted TV over there!” Race started sprinting. 

Spot sighed, then ran to catch up to his idiot. 

\--------O-------- 

“It’s getting dark, we should probably start heading back,” Spot said. The sun had set, and it was getting hard to see. Race poked his head out from behind a pile where he had been examining a cracked kaleidoscope. 

“Yeah, probably,” He hopped to his feet, ditching the kaleidoscope. “Wanna race back?” 

Where the hell this kid got all his energy from? Fucking coffee addict. 

“How about no, again, I don’t want any ER visits tonight.” 

They walked in comfortable silence, broken only by the squeaking of rats, louder now that more of nocturnal creatures came out. As the minutes passed, Spot noticed Race fidgeting more and more, glancing over his shoulder every few minutes. He tried to see what the other boy was looking at, but he couldn’t see anything. 

“Something wrong, Racer?” He asked. 

“Sounds like there’s a lot more rats then there was before,” Racer said, sounding suspiciously casual. 

“Oh, so now you’s the one that’s scared? I thought you loved the rats!” Spot teased. 

Race sputtered. “They’s fine when there’s like three and you can see ‘em all! I feels like they’re following us when I can’t see ‘em.” 

Spot had an evil, evil idea. He smirked. “Yeah, that’s why I wanted to head out. Everyone knows rats get vicious after dark. 

“…What?” 

“Oh come on, everyone knows that! Is you tryin’ to tell me ya haven’t heard the stories of the peoples who’ve gotten attacked?” 

Race didn’t say anything, which was telling in itself. Spot stifled a snicker. 

“Ya seriously haven’t? Don’t ya watch the news? Just last week, they found the body of a man who had been killed by a swarm of rats.” 

They had reached the end of the landfill, and Spot could hear Race sigh in relief as they left it behind them. He curled his hand into a claw and subtly raised it behind Race. 

“Yeah, the poor fellow didn’t stand a chance against a swarm of rats. They think he’d been dumpster diving, and when he made it out of the landfill, the rats had already gotten his scent. They found his body the next morning, all gnawed apart. They thinks a hoard of rats followed him out, creeping behind him until-“ 

He grabbed the back of Race’s neck with his clawed hand. 

Race honest-to-god _shrieked_ , higher than anything Spot had heard before, leaping away before tripping himself and falling.

Spot couldn’t help it, he burst out laughing. 

“You _asshole!_ ” Race yelled from the ground, then started to chuckle despite himself. 

“That’s what you get when you name a fucking rat, after me, Race!” Spot retorted, still laughing. “…Alright, come on, get up.” Race was still prone on the ground. 

“Leave me here to die, Spot. I’ve lost my will to live.” Race moaned. Spot nudged him with his foot. 

“Oh relax and pick up your dignity, you’ll be fine.” 

“Awfully bold of you to assume I have dignity,” Race shot back. He laid there for a few more seconds before holding out his hands. 

Spot grabbed them and heaved Race up, still laughing a little. 

“I don’t think I’ve ever heard anyone scream that high, even Jack. You’s got real talent.” He said as they walked back towards the brightly lit streets. 

Race crossed his arms, but he was smiling. 

“And I don’t think I’ve ever heard you actually laugh, I was starting to think it wasn’t possible.” Race teased. 

“Hey, I’ve got an image to uphold! Can’t have anyone saying I ain’t tough,” Spot joked. 

“You should do it more often. It sounds real nice.” Race said quietly. 

Spot shot Race a quick look, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Race was looking resolutely forward. 

“I…thanks.” He said, at a loss. An awkward silence fell as they continued walking. 

They reached Race’s dorm building first, and Race hesitated at the entrance. 

“Uh…thanks for coming out with me, Spot. It was a good time, even if you’s an asshole.” 

“Likewise, Racer.” Spot nodded a goodbye and started to turn away. 

“Wait, Spot.” Race said, an odd tone in his voice, and Spot turned around. He was suddenly very aware of how close they were standing, barely an inch apart. He had to tip his head back to look Race in the eyes, even as Race tilted his head down. Race bit his lip, and took an unsteady breath. Spot felt his own breath hitch, Race’s lips looked achingly soft and tantalizingly close, and Spot wanted- 

Someone slammed a car door down the street. Both boys jumped, Race stepping back, his whole face tomato red. 

“Um, have a, have a good night, Spot!” He stammered and leaped inside the building, shutting the door behind him. 

Spot whipped around to glare at the unfortunate passersby who had interrupted them. He slumped against a nearby wall and rubbed his face, which he knew was just as red as Race’s, and tried to steady his breathing.

Holy _hell_ he had it bad. 

After a few moments, he turned and walked back to his own dorm. 

As he was lying in his bed, futilely trying to sleep, he realized he was…happy. Truly, deeply happy in a way that he hadn’t felt in a long time. 

Being with Race tended to do that him. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spot is precious, okay? Also, I forgot to mention this earlier but there is an AMAZING series that highkey inspired me to write this, it’s called One of Us by gracedameron and it’s like A+ 10/10 some quality, quality stuff. Go read it!

**Author's Note:**

> So yeah. What Race has in this is an actual thing, Neurocardiogenic (sometimes called Vasovagal) Syncope. It really sucks; you just pass out randomly and then feel shitty for the rest of the day. It can be controlled with medication, but episodes still happen occasionally. It’s mostly random, but worse when it’s hot, or when you haven’t slept/eaten properly. Fun story, this is based off the time I missed all the signs that I was going to pass out because I was talking to a cute girl.  
> Hey but thanks for reading! I'm still trying to decide whether this is going to be multiple chapters or not.  
> Leave a comment or kudos if you liked this! Those make my day :)


End file.
